Off My Radar
by heeha
Summary: To Ron, Tom Riddle is nothing but bad news. To Hermione, he's a brilliant student and role model. Harry agrees with Hermione's perception. After all, how can Tom Riddle, model student and friend to many, be anything but good? AU, Tom/Harry
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: I've been wanting to write a first-person fanfic for a while now, so this is it. I don't know if I'll continue this though. It depends on the response I get for each chapter. Thus, if you like this story, please leave a review so I can gauge how well the reception is to the story. The title is temporary too. I might change it later on. Anyway, enough babbling from me. I hope you enjoy!

Off My Radar  
By heeha

Chapter 1

(Harry's POV)

The sun slowly dips below the horizon as the train chugs along to its destination - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I sit inside the train, watching the sun's descent, as my friends squabble about god knows what.

" - isn't that right, Harry?" says Hermione suddenly. I have absolutely no idea as to what she's talking about.

Turning my head to look at her, I say, "Er, yeah. Right." Hermione smiles triumphantly.

"See, Ron? I told you!" she says. I direct my gaze to Ron, who has a scowl on his face.

"Yeah, well, whatever," says Ron, crossing his arms. "I can't believe you agree with Hermione on this."

I shrug and say, "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," pretending to know what I'm talking about when I actually have absolutely no clue whatsoever.

Ron suddenly smiles, "Y'know, mate, you're right. It _doesn't_ matter. I can't believe we got so worked up about this."

"Well, _you _started it," huffs Hermione. "I was merely correcting you."

Ron rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We all know how much you love Tom Riddle."

"I do NOT love Tom Riddle," says Hermione indignantly. "I just can't stand factual inaccuracies."

"You can call it a factual inaccuracy, but deep down, I still think he's a git in disguise," says Ron. Oh. So they're talking about Tom Riddle. That's nothing new.

"And that's why I say you're unfairly biased against him," says Hermione. "He hasn't done anything to you, or anyone else for that matter, yet you still believe the worst of him."

"It's not being biased, Hermione," says Ron. "It's called trusting my gut instincts. And it just so happens that my gut instincts tell me that Tom Riddle is bad news."

"Well, your gut instincts are wrong this time," says Hermione assertively. "Tom Riddle has been nothing but an exceptional role model and student. Just because he's perfect in everything he does, doesn't mean there's something wrong with him."

"I'm not basing my perception on how perfect he is, Hermione. I just get this bad feeling whenever I'm around him," says Ron.

"Judging someone based on unfounded feelings is ridiculous!" exclaims Hermione. "What if I thought you were evil just because I got a bad feeling about you? How would you like to be thought of in that way?"

Ron frowns. "Well, I would think you were a biased bitch, but that's beside the point. You don't get a bad feeling about me, so you can't use that as an example."

"My example shows how biased you're being, and the fact that you would think I'm a biased bitch if I thought you were evil from a bad feeling only further supports my point of view!"

Suddenly, the compartment's door opens, and who should it be but Tom freaking Riddle. He looks at us, raises an eyebrow, and says, "Who's calling Granger a biased bitch now?"

Hermione blushes a furious red. "No one is, Tom. It was just an example." Tom cocks his head to the side.

"Sounds like an interesting example to me," says Tom. "What was it based on?"

"We were just talking about making judgments based on gut feelings, and I was saying how it's not fair to judge someone as evil just because you get a bad feeling from them," elaborates Hermione.

"While that may be right in theory, Hermione, in reality, I would trust my gut instincts," says Tom. Ron grins widely while Hermione gapes at Tom.

"WHAT?!" exclaims Hermione. "Why would you trust your gut instincts if I'm right in theory?"

"Because," says Tom, "my gut instincts have never been wrong before. Besides, even if the person isn't evil, I'm sure it would be of no great loss to me if I were to distance myself from that person. I have plenty of friends and acquaintances already. Losing one potential acquaintance is hardly of any consequence to me." His eyes meet my own and he asks, "What about you, Potter? What do you think?" Dammit. Why is everybody asking for my opinion on this?

"Er...Well..." I start, trying to buy some time to think of something to say. Neutral ground seems to be the safest side to take, so I say, "I think it depends on the person. Sometimes a gut feeling could be right, and sometimes it could be wrong. It all depends."

Tom nods his head in agreement. "That's true; it's always dependent on the person. How very astute of you to point that out." I flash a small smile at him for his compliment, which he returns with a smirk of his own. Whatever bad feelings Ron gets from Tom, I'm not getting them. So maybe Hermione is right about Tom. Maybe Ron's gut instincts are wrong this time.

"So how has my favourite golden trio been doing?" asks Tom, taking a seat opposite us in the compartment.

"Since when have we been your favourite golden trio?" inquires Ron. Hermione elbows him hard in the ribs, causing Ron to yelp in pain.

"Don't mind him, Tom. He's just being difficult," says Hermione. Tom raises an eyebrow, but says nothing in response. "We've been doing fine, overall. Thanks for asking." She flashes a bright smile at him, blatantly ignoring Ron, who's gently nursing his ribs. "How was your summer?"

"Tedious, as usual," says Tom. "Life without magic is pretty dull. I can't wait to come of age and be rid of these ridiculous age restrictions."

"Why? What do you plan to do when you're no longer bounded by rules?" asks Ron.

"Let's just say, I have great plans," says Tom cryptically.

"Do you plan on becoming Minister for Magic, Tom?" asks Hermione. "I think you'd be a great Minister."

"Perhaps," says Tom. "I haven't decided what sort of career path I plan to pursue just yet. My options are still open."

"You're lucky you have so many options," I cut in. "Some of us aren't so lucky."

Tom turns to look at me. "You already have a career path in mind though, don't you, Potter? If I'm not mistaken, I believe you want to be an Auror, don't you?"

"Yes," I admit. "I want to be an Auror. But I was talking about people in general. Some people have a limited number of careers to choose from, seeing as how they didn't do so well on their exams."

"As long as you're not one of them, you have nothing to worry about," says Tom. His crimson eyes meet mine. "You aren't one of them, are you?"

"Thankfully, no," I say, grinning. "I have Hermione to thank for that."

"Of course you would have the brilliant Hermione Granger to assist you," says Tom. I divert my gaze to Hermione, who's blushing beet red at Tom's compliments.

"I'm not _that _brilliant, Tom," says Hermione modestly. "I'm not as brilliant as you."

"Perhaps you're not," says Tom, "but you come a close second." If possible, Hermione's face turns even redder at Tom's compliment. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I would think that Hermione actually fancied Tom. However, I happen to know that Hermione has liked Ron for ages, and vice versa. She just holds Tom in high esteem.

As we feel the train come to a stop, Tom stands up from his seat across from us. "Well, I better head back to my compartment. I'll see you guys around." We say our goodbyes to Tom, who opens the door to our compartment and leaves. When the train stops, Hermione, Ron, and I gather our things and get off the train. Horseless carriages transport us to the castle in fifteen minutes, which is pretty fast if you ask me. We enter the castle through the grand oak doors and sit down at the Gryffindor table, waiting expectantly for the sorting to start.

The sorting takes half an hour to finish, after which Dumbledore thankfully says, "Tuck in!" A feast appears before our eyes, and we dig in hungrily, eating every treacle tart and goose leg that we can get our hands on. I stuff myself full of food, having been deprived of it back at the Dursleys. I must look like a pig to my peers, but I don't really care. They don't have to follow the agonizingly sparse Dudley Dursley diet like I do.

When the feast is over, Dumbledore dismisses us, and we all start to head to our common rooms. As I pass by the Slytherin table, my eyes snag on Tom, who's laughing merrily among his Slytherin friends. He looks so carefree and happy. There's no way that Ron's right about him. Even if Tom trusts his gut instincts, Ron's instincts must be mistaken, because all I see right now is a talented wizard, happy among friends.

Tom suddenly catches my eye. He smirks and raises his hand in greeting. I smile and raise my left hand in return before turning away and heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ron must be wrong about Tom Riddle. After all, how can Tom, model student and friend to many, be anything but good?


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Hi everyone, I'm back with another chapter! I'm not so sure it works with the summary and the beginning of the fic, but it's what I've got right now, so I'm posting it for now until I see fit to make changes. I hope you enjoy!

Off My Radar

By heeha

Chapter 2

Tom has many admirers. From Slytherin to Hufflepuff, girls and boys fawn over him everywhere he goes. People confess their undying love to him at least once a week, hoping that they'll be the one Tom chooses to be his boyfriend or girlfriend. However, as far as I know, Tom has turned every single admirer down, boys and girls alike. Why, I'm not sure. It's not like everybody who's confessed to him is unattractive or stupid. Hell, Cho Chang confessed her feelings to Tom a year ago, and even she got turned down.

With his track record of rejections, it's not hard to predict how future confessions will go. Yet the confessions still keep coming. Like right now.

"Please, Harry? Do this favour for me just this once, and I'll never ask you to do this again. Pleease?" pleads Lavender Brown, clasping her hands together and bowing her head in begging.

"Why are you asking me to deliver your love letter to him? It's not like I'm great friends with him or anything," I say.

"He likes you," says Lavender unabashedly. "He'd be willing to accept anything from you because he's fond of you. He'd never take it from me. I'm categorized as one of his many fangirls, insignificant to him by all means. But you, you're different. He might read my letter if you're the one delivering it."

"How do you know he's fond of me?" I ask skeptically. This is news to me. I've never known Tom Riddle to be fond of anyone, least of all me.

"Because he goes out of his way to talk to you," says Lavender. "Usually, people have to go up to him to talk to him. But he initiates conversations with you and your group. I don't think he'd do that unless he enjoyed your company. " Damn, I think she has a point. "Please, Harry? I have to let him know how I feel, even if I do get rejected in the end anyway. I can't hold back my feelings for him any longer."

With a sigh, I hold out my hand for the letter. "Alright," I say, "but just this once. And don't tell anyone I'm doing this for you. I don't want to suddenly become Tom's love letter messenger for everyone."

Lavender flashes me a dazzling smile. "Thanks Harry! I knew I could count on you! Here's the letter." She hands me a sealed pink envelope. I take the envelope from her hands and head out of the common room, shoving the envelope into my pocket. It's then that I realize I have no idea where Tom is. But dinner is starting soon, so perhaps I'll catch him in the Great Hall, or catch him leaving it.

I head towards the Great Hall, keeping a lookout for any sign of Tom. I don't see him anywhere though, so hopefully he's in the Great Hall, waiting for dinner.

Sure enough, when I arrive at the Great Hall, I see Tom unusually sitting by himself at the Slytherin table. Where are his friends?

Oh well. The less people that see me delivering this letter, the better. I head towards the Slytherin table, coming to a stop beside Tom. He looks up from the table at me and raises an eyebrow.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," says Tom. "What's so important that you need to visit me at the _Slytherin _table, of all places?"

"I have a letter for you," I say, taking the envelope out of my pocket and holding it out for Tom to take. Tom makes no move to take the envelope, however. Instead, his lips dip into a frown as he surveys me. Oh no. Maybe he thinks the letter is from me!

"It's not from me," I hastily clarify. "It's from Lavender Brown, my housemate."

"Let me guess," says Tom. "She sought you out to give the letter to me, hoping I'd accept it if you were the one who delivered it to me." I nod my head in affirmation. Tom sighs, tearing the envelope and letter in two. "Don't bother giving me these letters anymore. I'm not interested in any of my admirers."

"Practically the whole school is in love with you. If you're not interested in any of your admirers, who are you interested in then?" I ask, curious.

"Do you really want to know?" asks Tom. I nod my head. He beckons me closer, so I lean down until my ear is level with his mouth. Hot breath tickles my ear as I wait for him to tell me who he likes.

"The messenger," he says into my ear. I stand up straight, furrowing my brow. Who's the messenger?

I voice my thoughts aloud, staring at Tom quizzically.

"Are you serious?" says Tom, looking at me like I'm stupid.

"Hey, it's not my fault you choose to talk in riddles. How am I supposed to know who 'the messenger' is?" I say in my defense.

Tom sighs. "You're hopeless. Who else could the messenger be?"

"How should I know?" I say. "You probably get tons of letters delivered to you daily. That means you have many messengers. How am I supposed to know which messenger you're talking about?"

"It's all about context, Potter," says Tom.

"Context?" I repeat. What context is he talking about? In this context? But in this context the messenger is...

"Me?" I say incredulously. He likes _me?!_

"And he wins the prize," says Tom, smirking. He likes _me?! _

I stare at Tom, wide-eyed. He seems entirely too calm for someone who just confessed his feelings.

"It's customary to tell the other person how you feel after he's confessed his feelings for you," says Tom, looking at me expectantly.

What am I supposed to say? I've never considered anybody in that way before, least of all Tom. I don't know how to respond to him.

"Umm...I don't know?" I say. Tom frowns.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asks.

"I mean, I've never thought of anybody like that before," I say, placing my hand behind my head in embarrassment. Honestly, I don't even know if I'm straight or gay, but I'll admit that I think Tom is handsome, if that counts for anything.

"I suppose we'll have to run a test to see if you're attracted to me," says Tom. I raise an eyebrow.

"What sort of test?" I ask.

"A simple test," replies Tom. "It shouldn't take longer than ten minutes max. Meet me in the abandoned girls' washroom after dinner. We'll do the test in there so that we have some privacy."

"What about Moaning Myrtle?" I ask skeptically. "Won't she see us if we do it in there?"

"She won't be a problem," Tom replies swiftly. "I'll charm her into leaving the washroom for a while so that we have some privacy."

"Alright," I say. "I'll see you after dinner then." I walk away from the Slytherin table, heading towards the Gryffindor table.

Once I arrive at the Gryffindor table, Lavender walks up to me.

"Well?" she says eagerly. "How did it go?"

"He ripped the envelope in two once I gave it to him," I reply honestly.

"Oh," says Lavender. She bites on her bottom lip, her eyes becoming watery. Oh no. I think she's about to cry.

"Don't feel too sad," I say hastily. "He's rejected everybody else too. You're not the only one he's turned down."

Lavender sniffs. "I suppose you're right. I just wish he would like me back. I'd be the best girlfriend he'd ever have!"

"I'm not so sure he's into girls," I mutter to myself, remembering his confession only minutes ago.

"What'd you say? I didn't hear you," says Lavender, cupping her hand behind her ear.

"Nothing!" I say hastily. "Anyway, dinner's ready, so I'm going to sit down and eat with Ron and Hermione, okay?"

"Alright," says Lavender. "Thanks, Harry. I appreciate it, even if I did get rejected."

"No problem, Lavender," I say before leaving her and walking to the other end of the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Hermione are sitting. I greet them before taking a seat across from them. As soon as I sit down, food appears before our eyes. I arrived just in time.

I eat silently, half-listening to Ron and Hermione talk, and half-wondering what test Tom is going to do to see if I like him or not. All too soon, dinner ends, and I excuse myself from my friends, saying I need to look something up in the library. I leave the Great Hall, making my way slowly towards the abandoned girls' washroom. When I get there, I look around to see if anyone's watching me. Seeing no one, I push open the bathroom door and walk inside.

As soon as I'm in, I see Tom leaning against one of the sinks, watching me. An awkward silence rises between us, so I break it by clearing my throat and saying, "So what's the test you're going to do?"

"Come stand in front of me," orders Tom. Obediently, I do as he says, walking over to him and standing in front of him.

All of a sudden, his hands clamp around my wrists in a vice-like grip, so that I cannot pull away no matter how hard I try.

"Hey!" I exclaim. "What's the - mmph!" Tom cuts me off by pressing his lips firmly against my own.

Oh. My. God. He's kissing me! I can't believe it! Tom Riddle is kissing me! I open my mouth in surprise, and Tom's tongue slips inside, caressing the walls of my mouth. When his tongue rubs softly against my own, I cannot help the moan that escapes my lips.

When he finally pulls away, we're both left breathing heavily. A smirk graces Tom's lips as he stares at me in the aftermath of our kiss.

"You liked it," he states smugly.

"Just because I liked it, doesn't mean I like you," I retort, crossing my arms. "That was a stupid test. I thought you were going to do a spell of some sort. That would have been more appropriate."

"A spell is not necessary to reveal what the body knows. Attraction starts with the physical, after all," Tom says.

"Attraction may start with the physical, but it ends with the heart. And my heart is not yours," I say firmly.

"Not yet, it isn't. But I will possess it in time," he says, so arrogant and sure of himself.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "Keep dreaming, Riddle. That's as close as you'll get to having me."

Tom raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's a statement. And a very true one at that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my common room." I turn on my heel and walk towards the door.

"I'll have you, no matter what it takes," I hear Tom say as I leave. "Mark my words, Harry. You _will_ be mine."

As the door swings shut behind me, I inwardly shiver at his words, which sound so full of promise that I almost believe him.


End file.
